


Rise of the Valkyrie

by TechnoLichy



Series: Overwatch: Untold Stories [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, F/M, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 02:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7872223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoLichy/pseuds/TechnoLichy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. Ziegler was a doctor before she became Mercy. And as a doctor in a military force she sees war for the first time in person. Jack Morrison feels responsible for her as he was the one that asked her to join Overwatch, but eventually he gets too close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Doctor! We got a gut wound!” a field nurse shouted across the tent. “Male child, heavy bleeding!”  
“On my way!” Angela said tying a knot in the suture on the intestines she was working on. “Alright close her up and give her a unit of AB+ I’ll be over to give her some nanites.” She snapped off her surgical gauntlets and bib dropped them on the floor. She ran to a sanitation station where a machine put a new bib on her, fitted her with new gauntlets and sprayed her with a general disinfectant. Then she ran over to the new patient and quickly assessed the damage.  
“Imaging.” She said to the Robotic. Operating. Assistant. Droid. or roady for short. The droid sent an arm out that hovered over his wound. The imaging showed that he’d been shot in the liver. “Ok he’s gonna need an ICU as soon as he’s stabilized. Roady get him a ride.” Roady beeped in acknowledgement. She opened the wound up and went to work removing the bullet. She pulled it out filled the liver with Biogel and sewed it shut.  
“We got a mid tibial amputation!” a nurse screamed seeing a Jack Morrison assisting a still awake and screaming soldier. His left arm was missing and blood still dribbled around the tourniquet.  
“Jesus Jack who taught you how to tie a knot?!” Angela yelled running to the soldier. “Nurse get me 2 units of O- and a morphine syrette! Roady, get me a cauterizing laser on this arm.”  
“Dr. Ziegler you need to leave!” Jack said setting the soldier down. “We’re five minutes away from full retreat, we need everyone out of here.”  
“Commander if we leave all these patients will die!”  
“You’ll die with them if you stay!” he shouted back. Angela never stopped working on the soldier’s arm. The smell of cooking flesh always made her nauseous but she didn’t let it distract her. After all the arteries and veins were sealed she told roady to clean up and a nurse finally injected the tiny disposable injection of morphine into the soldier’s neck. He relaxed almost immediately.  
She ran to her cabinet and paused noticing she was about to use the last vial of nanites. Her hand wrapped around it and grabbed 3 small disposable syringes. She injected the little girl first, then the soldier, then the little boy. The reason she had to be the one to administer the nanites was as much a matter of finesse as it was programing. She controlled the nanites through her HALO headpiece and directed the nanites. As of yet no one else had been able to harness a nano swarm.  
“Angela!” Jack shouted over the radio. “The retreat’s begun, get these patients out of here and get out yourself! I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” He said reloading his heavy rifle and running out the flap of the tent.  
“Roady where’s that transport?” It beeped rapidly in frustration. No one was coming. “Ok Nurses team up two per gurney and get moving!” she ran over to the soldier who lost his arm and tried to help him get up but he was going into shock. “Stay with me-” she checked his lapel. “James. Roady, give him adrenaline and dopamine. Listen James we need to move. I can’t carry you alone, you have to help ok?”  
He weakly nodded and slowly sat up from the bed. A machine arm injected him twice in the blink of an eye. The soldier quickly lurched the adrenaline coursed through his veins giving his body a boost to combat the blood loss and shock. Angela took his arm over her shoulder and grabbed his wrist and belt, doing her best to haul him out of the tent. She’d been in that tent operating for 5 hours. When she went in it was a cool autumn day, now it was a burning hellscape.  
Fires raged as far as she could see towards the crumbled front line. She moved as fast as possible away from the lines but she couldn’t see where she was going. They were leaving the rear operation base and she couldn’t remember if they had an evacuation plan for if the rear base fell.  
She heard a loud whirring noise that called to her mind an image of an old treaded rover. Then her blood ran cold in realization. She watched as the Omnic tank rolled into the street she was crossing and she tried to jump but she heard thunderous boom and she was knocked off her feet. She couldn’t hear anything but ringing.  
James had landed on her legs so she quickly felt her torso for injuries and found nothing major. She tore off the surgical gauntlets and grabbed James shoulder but his body was shredded and his eyes empty. She tried to push him off her pinned legs but she couldn’t get the dead weight off her.  
She felt more than heard the tank treads move closer and she tried moving but found her legs were not working fully. She looked and they’d been peppered with shrapnel. She saw James’ side arm in his holster and she lunged to grab it. Pulling it out of her holster she had only time to point the pistol at the tank as it rounded the corner. Her hands shook worse than they did during her surgical residency and she wondered if she was going into shock herself. The tank noticed her and spun it’s cannon to face her. She tried to fire but the trigger wouldn’t move.  
“No no no!” She shouted as she fumbled with the safeties and levers. As the cannon lowered to aim at her directly she pressed the last button she could see and the magazine slid out of the bottom and out of reach. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the hopelessness of her situation became clearer than it had been.  
Just then a trio of blue streaks slammed into the tank in small explosions and blur of a man leapt and landed on the top of the tank. It’s treads damaged it transformed back into a bipedal droid and tried to bring it’s gun arm to bear. The man ducked the arm firing his rifle at the droid’s damage leg.  
The leg’s joint gave out and the omnic fell onto its arm. The man jumped on it’s back and fired into it’s neck until it became silent and still. The man roared at the dead omnic then threw his rifle aside. He looked at Angela and she flinched at the insane rage she saw.  
“Dr. Ziegler!” He shouted. It was Jack. He ran over to her and effortlessly tossed aside James’ body. Fresh waves of agony broke through the adrenaline and shock as the weight was lifted and blood flowed freely to her legs. Legs peppered with shrapnel. Jack leaned in and inspected her legs.  
“Do you have any more of your nanites?” He asked. She could barely understand him so she just nodded and held up the small syringe. It glowed weakly in the red glow that lit everything in sight. “You need to direct this towards your left leg. Do you understand? You need to fix the Femoral artery.  
All she heard was faint noise but she saw him grab a piece of stone imbedded in her thigh and understood what he was about to do. She focused on her leg, and the blood vessels inside. She gave Jack a nod and he yanked out the stone faster than she could see and pressed his thumb on the syringe plunger. The pain threatened to rob her of her focus but she fought through it clenching her teeth and concentrated on the nanites. Jack had pressed his hand tightly to her thigh over the wound and held it there, her blood leaking quickly around his fingers.  
The blood flow slowed as the nanites got to work and Jack slowly removed his hand. The bleeding was no longer arterial but the nanites had done all they could. He took a can of bio foam from his shoulder and quickly filled her wounds until the can was empty. He stood and hauled her over his shoulders reaching his arm around her leg to grab her forearm in a fireman’s carry. He drew his own sidearm in the other hand and ran as fast as he could through the streets.  
Angela fought to stay conscious but it was a losing fight and soon the rhythmic jostling from Jack’s sprint rocked her to sleep.

She woke in a hospital. She wasn’t sure where. Jack sat sleeping in a visitor’s chair near her bed. She peaked under her sheets and saw angry red swelling around untidy stitches all over her legs. They would be covered in scars she thought. Then she thought about what happened and in an instant it all came back to her.  
Her startled gasp made Jack bolt upright and rush to her side. She sat up quickly holding her head.  
“Dr Ziegler?”  
“Where are we? What happened?”  
“We’re in a Swiss hospital, we had to get you out.”  
“I...it was gonna kill me Jack…” She said remembering every detail, the way the cannon pointed at her, the weight of the empty gun useless in her hands. She couldn’t make sense out of how she was alive. She started trembling.  
“I know.” He said softly. “You’re safe now.” his words broke the damn and she buried her head in his chest and sobbed. He wrapped his arms around her as she cried and gently rubbed her back. “It’s ok.” he said every once in awhile just holding her until she couldn’t cry anymore. It took a long while and even after she stopped she continued clutching to his chest.  
“They’ve cleared you to leave, do you want to go home?” He finally asked her. She shook her head.  
“I rented it while I was supposed to be gone.” she said in a cracking shaky voice.  
“Well… you can stay at my apartment while you’re here. I’ll just stay at HQ.” she considered it and realized she didn’t know where else she could go and nodded.  
“Alrighty, I had to guess some of your sizes.” He said gently untangling himself and handing her a box. She opened it and saw laundered underwear, what she’d been wearing during the attack, and a new white top, black pants, and comfortable boots. “Hope I wasn’t too far off… you didn’t have any clothes at HQ.” He said when she looked at him confused.  
“Thank you Jack.”  
“I’ll just uh.. Wait for you outside.” he said walking to the door and closing it behind him. Angela gently dressed careful not to catch anything on her stitches and looked looked at the box again. There was a small pouch that she opened to see her personal effects. Carefully arranged to protect them in the pouch. She zipped it closed and looked out the window at the city lights, like candles on the night sky.

On the car ride to Jack’s apartment Angela didn’t say a word. She’d realized that accepting Jack’s might have been a bad idea but couldn’t summon the energy to care about it. She thought about all the surgeries she performed, dozens more in a day than she’d performed in months at her hospital. She thought about all the lives she saved, and if had she’d died, if it was enough for her to be happy with.  
Angela was not sure what to expect from the personal home of the Strike Commander of the biggest international military force but she was far from expecting the nondescript tenement Jack parked in front of. It was an old brick building amongst much larger more modern architecture. It seemed like a very retro place for someone at Jack’s salary to be living.  
Angela hadn’t noticed Jack get out and walk around the car so when he opened the door for her she was startled.  
“Sorry about that.” Jack said. “I know it doesn’t look like much but it reminds me of where I lived in New York.” He extended his hand and she took it, using it for balance as she carefully got out of the car. She took his offered arm and used it to take a little weight off her legs and to keep Jack from walking to fast.  
They entered an empty lobby and took a lift to the seventh floor. Jack led her to the sixth apartment and inserted an ancient metal key into the lock.  
“Isn’t that really insecure?” she asked as he helped her through the door.  
“Well I haven’t seen a lock pick in years but it’s just there to discourage someone from trying to break in, not stop them.” He flicked a few lights on and she looked around the apartment. She had expected something similar to his office. Spartan, neat, and very functional. Instead it was filled with old wooden furniture, leather upholstery, and walls covered in photos, sports memorabilia, and mementos.  
The place felt warm and lived in but Angela knew Jack spent little time here. The kitchen and Living room were one big area with giant bay window on the outside wall. Jack hung his jacket on a hook on the wall and took hers to a little coat closet near the door.  
“I know I just woke up but I’m already exhausted.” she said walking slowly to the kitchen and sitting gingerly on a stool at the breakfast bar. Jack left her and walked to the bedroom.  
“I’ll bet, let me just change the sheets for you and I’ll let you get some sleep.”  
“Where are you going to sleep?” Angela asked noticing that he was preparing the master bedroom for her.  
“Probably at HQ, I’ve got a cot in my office.”  
“No. You are not going to sleep on a cot while I’m stealing your bed. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”  
“It’s fine, doc. I probably spend more nights at HQ than I do here anyway. Plus I don’t want you tearing stitches cause you’re sleeping on a couch.” he said then returned to the kitchen and leaned on the refrigerator. “Plus it’s my damn bed, I’ll decide who sleeps on it.”  
“Does that line ever work?” Angela said with a teasing smile. Jack grinned back.  
“Not yet, but it has to start working eventually right?”

True to his word, Jack left Angela alone in his apartment and she quickly nodded off. She didn’t sleep long and when she woke the sun was beginning to poke through the curtains. She rose swung her legs off the bed and probed the stitches. They were healing nicely but several would leave nasty scars. Her thoughts shot back to the explosion that put the shrapnel in her legs and began to have a panic attack.  
She recognized it and tried to steady her breath but all she could think about was the paralyzing fear and certain death. Then she thought about the spirit of indomitable rage that was Jack Morrison. She remembered the way he roared standing triumphantly on the shattered remains of the omnic he took out single handedly. She knew he was a war hero and all but she never imagined what he was like in combat.  
She heard the rustling and the metallic slide of a key in the door. The door opened and quietly shut and there was no noise for several seconds.  
“Dr. Ziegler? I hope I didn’t wake you up.”  
“No, I was up. Can I use your robe?”  
“Sure, I bought some groceries. Do you feel like some breakfast?”  
She donned the terry cloth robe and walked stiff legged into the kitchen where Jack was putting several large bags worth of groceries into the refrigerator.  
“I uh... don’t really keep the place stocked.” he said answering her unspoken question. “Care for an omelette?”  
“Sure. Do you want me to help?” He shook his head and stopped unloading groceries to pour her a glass of orange juice.  
“Orangensaft?” he asked.  
“Danke!” She responded with a giggle. “Du sprichst Deutsch?”  
“Ein bisschen.” He said after a slight pause. He gestured for her to sit at the breakfast bar. “Enjoy the show.”  
“Breakfast and a show? I need to come here more often.” he winked at her and brought out a pack of six eggs, green onions, peppers, chives, and onions. He but the board on the counter in front of her and pulled a chef’s knife from a block by the sink. He stood across from her and took a deep breath.  
He started cutting an onion and in a blink the sound of the knife was like a machine gun tapping out. He moved so fast his hand blurred shredding veg into tiny pieces like a wood chipper. It was incredible to watch but the image Angela saw was the omnic falling like a tree to his merciless assault. The glass fell from her hand before she realized her grip became weak.  
Before it touched the counter Jack effortlessly shot a hand out and caught the glass before it hit the counter. He looked at her concerned and she covered her face with a hand.  
“I’m sorry… I just… give me a moment.” she shakily choked out.  
“Sure, take all the time you need. I’m… done showing off.” he said and went back into the kitchen. She took deep breaths and tried to focus on lowering her heart rate while Jack moved around the kitchen. She wasn’t aware of how much time had passed until a plate was set in front of her. She looked at the steaming folded omelet in front of her and took a deep breath. He sat next to her and took a bite of his food before setting his fork down.  
“Want to talk about it?” Jack finally said.  
“I don’t know how to explain it… That omnic was going to kill me… and that’s bad enough… I just… I thought I knew what war was. I lost my parents in war. I thought it was just senseless violence… but those machines were going to kill all those people. They did kill so many. If we weren’t there so many more would have died. But after facing all that death… and seeing mine… the scariest thing was seeing what happened to you. You changed so quickly… I thought… I thought you were different. I’m sorry I don’t know how else to say it.”  
“I’m sorry you had to see that.” he said softly.  
“I know logically that I wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t done what you did… but I can’t help that it scares me.” He nodded at her and took up his fork and she followed his example. They ate in silence and she hardly tasted the food.  
“Have you ever read the Art of War by Sun Tzu?” Jack finally asked breaking the silence.  
“I have not.” Jack nodded and took another bite before continuing.  
“Well it’s a good read if you’re ever bored. There’s an ancient Chinese saying, ‘Civilize the mind but make savage the body.’ It sounds wise and it’s why I study history, languages, literature, and so on. But in war, when it’s just you and the enemy, a civilized mind will get you killed. When your enemy is right in front of you, you have to hit it as hard and as fast as you can.”He held up his hand and stared at it. It was covered in tiny scars and a few not so tiny scars.  
“War is not a pretty thing.” he continued. “It’s ugly and horrifying. The people that can go through it without changing are either psychopaths or warriors. Generally you can tell which you are by asking yourself ‘do I pick up my sword to protect the ones I love, or to kill my enemies.’ It’s a question I ask myself every time I fight and I’ve never not had an answer.”  
“What is your answer?”  
“To tell you the truth? I scare myself with what I’m capable of.” he laid his hand on the table and stared off in the distance. She placed her hand on the top of his hand and he gently squeezed her fingers. “But I pick up the sword because if I don’t people die. People I care about get hurt...I can’t let them get hurt again.”


	2. Chapter 2

True to his word Jack spent the next night on the couch, relenting only so much as not to sleep at HQ. She woke alone in his apartment and decided she needed to stretch her legs a bit. She walked from one end of the apartment to the other slowly getting her legs working again. Even though she was hardly exerting herself she’d worked up quite a sweat.   
She grew frustrated with the lack of progress on the stiffness in her legs and decided to snoop around the apartment. She found his liquor cabinet and like the American he was he didn’t have anything besides bourbon and whiskey. Not a drop of wine in the whole place. She watched TV for a few hours on the couch before the act of sitting began to irritate her. She couldn’t believe that right now, this moment people were fighting for their lives and the news could show movie producers and actors babble about the latest movie remake.  
She turned off the TV and decided to try walking again. It hurt but she didn’t feel guilty about doing nothing. She looked through Jack’s cabinets and closets, found a set of overly expensive golf clubs, a red white and blue leather jacket, and a motorcycle helmet. She didn’t know he was a biker.   
She worked her way down to Jack’s office and gazed around the study. He had a bookshelf filled with leather bound books. She looked down the spines and saw they were mostly history books. She saw a red book with Chinese characters. She pulled it out and saw it was embossed in gold lettering ‘The Art of War’ on the front. She opened the cover and flipped through the book until a photo fell out of it.   
She looked at it and it was of Jack as a young man in full American dress uniform making a pose that reminded her of a High School Senior. She turned it over and saw a message written on the back in a shaky hand.

Jack,

We are so proud of you son, we always knew you were going to do great things. Your father was furious when you joined the army but he only was only scared. I don’t want that to be your last memory of him. When he passed he was showing this picture of you to his nurses, saying “That’s my boy, Jack. He’s gonna be a great man.” He loved you until the end and so will I. 

Sincerely,  
Your loving mother

She put the photo back and gingerly placed the book back in its shelf. Angela wondered about Jack’s parents and realized she didn’t know much about Jack despite working fairly closely for over a year. They had never socialized outside of work but they often talked to each other far more than was necessary to do their jobs. She needed his approval for budgeting, he needed her to research the nanites. The fact that she insisted on going to the front to use the gen-1 nanites was a constant point of contention.   
She glanced around at the rest of the office and it was filled with old dark wood furniture and rich brown leather. She sat at his desk and felt the comfort of the antique aesthetic. It reminded her of old westerns, the sheriff’s office always had warm lived in feel. She wondered if Jack felt that same reassurance.   
The walls of his office were covered in antique firearms, numerous plaques for medals he’d earned, golf trophies of all things, and on a small plaque, to her surprise, was an Eagle Scout medal. Reyes had mocked Jack’s approach to things as being too much of a Boy Scout. She wondered if reyes knew that he actually was one.   
She decided she’d snooped enough and decided to walk again. She walked for a half an hour and the sun went down as she decided to stop. She had again worked up quite a sweat and decided she could use a shower. Again much like his taste in furniture, his taste in bathroom fixtures were equally archaic. A cast iron clawfoot tub took up most of the room and she carefully undressed and swung her legs into the tub.  
The shower felt good and she remained under the water for far longer than she had to. Jack didn’t have much in the way of soaps. He had a sandpaper rough bar of soap and shampoo that smelled like bleach. Clearly Jack’s priorities were on being clean and not smelling or feeling clean. She’d have to change that if she was going to stay much longer.   
As she was thinking back to the last time she went shopping, a loud door slammed from the apartment on the other side of the wall. The noise startled her and she felt the explosion damage her ears again and felt a wave of pain as she remembered how the blast put shrapnel in her legs. The whole event flashed before her eyes in an instant.   
She tensed so suddenly she felt her feet slip on the enamel and she grabbed for the shower curtain. It gave out with little resistance and she fell hard. She felt the stitches on the inside of her thigh rip and the plastic curtain fell over her. She held her head where it bumped the tub and turned off the water.  
As she slowly righted herself and moved the curtain off of her, she saw that blood was filling the water in the tub. She grabbed a towel and pressed it between her legs over mangled stitches. She was lucky that the stitches themselves had tore instead of her skin but she was bleeding far too much to bandage and she definitely didn’t want to bleed all over the place.   
“Miststück!” she swore as she reached over to the sink where her phone sat and hesitantly dialed Jack’s number.  
“Guten Abend. Wie Geht’s?” Jack answered brightly, barely butchering the pronunciation.  
“Hey Jack… you wouldn’t happen to have a suture kit at home do you?”  
“No, did you pop your stitches?” his voice grew concerned so quickly she had to laugh. It reminded her of a certain nervous father fretting over an appendectomy post op she’d had to calm.   
“Just the one it seems.”  
“I’m on my way.”  
“Jack I can…” she tried but he’d already ended the call.  
Her face reddened as she realized she’d become one of the problem patients, pushing her limits until she hurt herself. She peeled back the towel looked at the gash, to no surprise it was still bleeding. She knew the artery was fine, it wasn’t bleeding enough and the nanites had seen to making sure it was healed.  
Jack was there so fast she felt sure he had used a jump jet. He opened the front door and ran into the apartment as if he was trying to stop a bomb from going off.   
“Angela!” He shouted.   
“In the bathroom.” she answered meekly.  
He rushed into the room with what looked like a full paramedic kit. He opened the box filled with all manners of emergency medical supplies and medicines and pulled out a pair of sterile white gloves.  
Without a word he took away the towel and looked at the wound. He put a patch of gauze over it and pulled out a suture kit and a bio foam can form the box. He took the gauze away from the wound and filled the gap with foam. The foam was an amazing invention she’d worked on briefly that would slow bleeding disinfect the wound and prevented swelling. She tried to think about the science to distract from the pain that was getting to be pretty awful.  
Jack could sense it and used a small injection gun to inject a mild local anesthesia that would let him work pain free for about 30 minutes. He used a pair of forceps to remove the torn stitches and popped the seal on the suture kit. He sewed her leg up with the quiet professionalism of an experienced surgeon.   
It wasn’t until he had begun to tie the end of the suture that she realized she was naked as the day she was born and Jack’s hands were high on the inside of her thigh. She reached over slowly to the wall and pulled another towel down to cover herself with. He cut the suture close to the knot and she inspected his work. It was very neat and professional, the kind of practiced quality that only someone who did this often.   
“Who taught you how to sew? Ray Charles?” She said trying to distract him from the fact that she was still very much exposed. He applied an ointment then covered it with a silver nitrate self adhesive bandage.   
“I’ll have you know,” he said as he stood turned and handed her a robe before going to wait outside the door. “That my mother taught me how to sew and no matter what you say I’m damn good at it.”  
She closed the robe and swung her legs over the tub letting the robe cover her more.   
“You’re not useless no. You should consider becoming a nurse.”  
“You just want to see me in a sexy nurse outfit. Well I’ll have you know I look ridiculous in a short skirt. But I might be persuaded to wear a kilt.” she couldn’t help but laugh nervously. “Do you need any help getting up? Your leg might be pretty numb.”   
She limped out of the bathroom under her own steam. But her clothes were dirty and still damp with sweat. Jack seeing that she was still not dressed walked over to the door, returned and handed her a plastic bin. She opened it and saw her luggage from the front lines.  
“I had it flown up here with the Crusaders. Reinhardt says hello.”  
“Thanks… I’m going to get dressed.”  
“Of course. I’ll just get dinner started. Chicken Valentino sound good?”  
“Uh sure. Sounds wonderful.” she said walking to the bedroom and set her luggage on the bed, then closed the door buried her face in her hands and fought wave after wave of embarrassment. 

She returned dressed, composed, and dignified to find Jack singing to himself as he prepared the chicken. He looked up to see her briefly before returning to his work. She opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off.  
“Can you help me with the Risotto?” he asked indicating to the stove. Jack seemed to have completely forgotten her embarrassing moment. Or had he not even noticed? She responded with a nod and began cooking.   
She hadn’t cooked for herself in a long time. When she was chief of medicine she had no time to cook and when she joined overwatch she was provided with extremely good, fresh, healthy food from the commissary. It was nice to get back to basics and she began to feel her mood lighten. When she was done she looked up and Jack was smiling warmly at her.  
“What?”  
“Nothing just… It’s good to see you smile.” He said moving to a cabinet and taking out plates and began setting the table.  
“I guess I just haven’t had much to smile about lately.” she said plating the Risotto and chicken before carrying them to the table. She set the plates down and noticed that Jack looked contemplative as he dug in his uniform’s breast pocket.  
“Sorry I forgot to give this to you earlier. But you were bleeding a bit.” he handed her a small folded piece of paper and she unfolded it. It was a letter addressed to ‘the doctor with the halo.’ She opened it and a picture fell out into her other hand. It was the little boy whose liver she’d dug a bullet out of. The boy flexed his small arms with his shirt off, a small angry scar on his stomach where she’d operated. 

Dear doctor,

I don’t even know your name, but I love you. You gave me back my son when I never thought I would see him again. His name is Anton, he’s a smart gentle boy, he’s going to live a wonderful life. And every day of that life after today is thanks to you. You are a true hero and a guardian Angel. God bless you doctor.

Sincerely,  
A very grateful mother

Halfway through reading the short letter she fell into her chair and covered her mouth as tears silently rolled down her cheeks. She held the picture to her heart and clenched her eyes closed. She knew that she’d saved lives over the years, but it was always academic, lives saved vs lives lost. The grim arithmetic of war and death. She’d never even met a patient she’d saved from any of the front posts she’d been to.  
She opened her eyes and Jack looked unsure of what to do. The combination of relief, joy, and watching Jack squirm made her laugh and his confusion at her laughter ensured that she couldn’t stop. She dabbed at her eyes with her napkin and took deep breaths until she calmed down.   
“Thanks Jack.” she said with a smile.  
“Uh… sure, I’m just the mailman though. Don’t give me too much credit.” he said as he walked into the kitchen. He pressed a button on a panel on the refrigerator.   
“You’re more than a mailman Jack.” she said as a panel in the wall she’d assumed was just for decoration extended straight out of the wall and she saw a large wine rack filled with dozens of wine bottles. “Mein Gott…” She said in wonder.  
“Do you want a red or a white wine with dinner?”   
“Uh…..white.”  
“Ok, How about… Ah, a Californian Chardonnay.” He selected a bottle and the panel retracted with the wine rack back into the wall. He took two glasses out of a cabinet and set about opening the bottle. “The aromatic lemon gives way to a full vanilla and caramel flavor with a refreshing acidic finish.” He said as he poured two glasses. He took one, swirled it around before sniffing and sipping. Satisfied, he set one in front of her and took his seat.  
“You are just full of surprises.” She said truly impressed with how much about him she didn’t know. She reddened with the memory of calling him ‘a shaved ape that wouldn’t know what to do if he could swing a stick at something.’ Jack merely raised his glass with a nod of his head.   
“To civility.” he said, she clinked her glass against his.

The food was delicious and the wine complimented it perfectly. It wasn’t long until their plates were clean and Jack had served a whole bottle between the two of them. Halfway through the second she was feeling very tipsy but Jack seemed to be quite sober.   
“How can you be sottaly tober, but I’m fhitshaced.” She slurred laughing as she heard her own mangled words. He laughed too before his smile turned a little sad.  
“Something to do with all the gene therapy. Liver regenerates so fast I don’t get drunk anymore unless I’m really trying and then only briefly.” He walked over to his liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of brandy. After he poured himself a glass, he sat back down with her and took a pull. “To catch up.” He said answering her unspoken question.  
“And here I thought you were so sophisticated.” she said making a pouty face and putting her hands on her hips. “Not asking if the lady wants something stronger.” Jack laughed and went back to the cabinet.   
“Perhaps the lady would like a cognac?” Jack said fingering the top of an over designed french bottle.  
“Bah!” She scoffed. “I’ll take my drinks American, like my company.” She said trying to hold a straight face. Jack grinned shaking his head grabbing a bottle of brandy and took it back to the table.

They drank and told stories to each other, Angela’s came from medical school, Jack’s from boot camp. They shared all the funny moments from Jack being dared to climb the camp’s flag pole naked to Angela betting her attending that she could toss a pill into a patient’s mouth from outside the room.   
Eventually Jack began to feel buzzed and Angela was absolutely sloshed and the evening began to wind down. Angela’s eyes began to flutter so Jack capped the bottle and picked her up gently and laid her onto his bed. He took her shoes off and as he did she began taking her top off. He wished her goodnight and went and laid on the couch.   
Leather not surprisingly is not the most comfortable. It’s hot and it sticks, so he’d laid a sheet down but he was still on the verge of sweating so he took his shirt off and tried to relax. Soon enough the booze was out of his system and he began to feel cooler and eventually he passed out. 

Angela dreamt of the war. Machine gun rounds flew all around her and explosions rocked the land before her. She heard a cry for help and saw a little boy half buried in rubble. She jumped from the building’s roof and spread her wings gliding over to him. He was badly injured and would surely die without immediate surgery.   
She raised her hand and a brilliant golden light shone down on her and the boy and before her eyes he was raised from the brink of death and stood surprised to be alive. She waved for him to run and she turned back to the line of soldiers fighting off the omnics. She flew down the line healing soldiers as she went. Then a tank appeared from nowhere and fired into a crowd blowing them to pieces.  
“Noooooo!” She screamed. She stood surrounded by the destroyed bodies of all the young men and women fighting to protect the fleeing civilians. “Not again!”  
“Angela!” She turned and saw Jack tear the arms off the omnic tank and smash it to pieces. “It’s ok.” He said.  
She turned back to the mound of death and raised her hand again. A brilliant light surged again around her and she tried to force it to become more powerful. The golden light shined brighter than ever until she was blinded by it. 

“Angela wake up, it’s just a dream.” jack leaned on the bed gently shaking her. She sat upright like a spring. The blinding light was the overhead light, she was in Jack’s apartment. It all came back to her and she rubbed her face.   
“Not even wine makes the dreams go away.” She complained. He sat on the edge of the bed and noticed it was 3am.   
“Not for long if it ever does. Only thing I find keeps em away is working so hard you don’t have time to dream.” He moved to stand when he felt her hand on his shoulder.  
“Jesus Jack your back… what happened?” she said concerned. He twisted his neck in a vain attempt to see the scars that were on his back.   
“Shrapnel from a bomb, didn’t have time to get a civilian to cover so I just got in front of her.” he said casually. He felt her fingers slide along the large scars, tracing the damage until she got to his shoulder. She pulled his arm until he turned and she saw the injection point on his bicep. Her finger circled the mark before tracing down his arm to the small burns on his forearm.   
She stood to her knees and made Jack turn to face her. His chest had several bullet wounds any which might have been a death blow had Jack not been in America’s super soldier program. His scars were like a roadmap of sacrifice. Wounds taken to prevent others from getting wounded. She looked up at his face and he looked at the ground. She remembered how she felt when she realized her legs would scar. Jack hadn’t been able to wear a short sleeve shirt in public for ages.   
Her eyes watered and she placed a hand on his cheek. He felt impossibly warm and she felt his hand gently wrap around her wrist. He looked back at her and she could tell he was more scared now than she’d ever seen him.   
“I’m ok.” He said simply as he gently removed her hand. “I’m sorry, you weren’t supposed to see this.”   
“Jack… you’ve been incredibly lucky. You’ve got to be careful or you’re going to get killed.”  
He got up and walked to the door. “Don’t worry Doc. Heroes never die.”  
“Wait!” she said urgently. He paused at the door arm reached out to turn off the light. “Stay with me.”  
He stood there frozen in place before turning off the light and slowly walking back to bed. He laid next to her and she laid back with him. She wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed him like a teddy bear. He just gently rubbed her back and when she fell asleep she didn’t dream of war.


End file.
